If I am to thank you for each moment, let me become willing. This pain, this woe, these trials – all vex me. Why, Lord, are your gifts so dreadfully wrapped?
I crawl when I could walk upright. I toil when I could rest. Perhaps I am the one who hides your treasures.
Grant me leniency with myself, Lord. I have tired myself so.
(Letter #1,939)
